Exiled Prince
by TheWildeFiles
Summary: Percy Jackson is driven into exile by the gods. He takes refuge at the coast of India. His only mistake; Percy left footprints. He left a trail that is bound to be followed. (takes place during the Winter Soldier)
1. Chapter 1

_How does one begin to describe the alleged Perseus Jackson? The first notion to come to mind is 'infamous'. Next would be 'dangerous'. He first came to the grid a decade ago. A nation-wide manhunt for a twelve year-old kid, along with a blonde and a crippled pre-teen. They managed to evade the authorities, which seemed impossible. But it was done._

_Percy Jackson's name was cleared once police caught up with him. The preteen claimed that he and his friends were kidnapped. His battle with the muscular abductor was caught on tape—using firearms as clubs. What made SHIELD skeptical was the boy's skill, how he managed to take down a fully capable man with more muscle then a body builder. _

_Then again, the police could have intimidated the man. But it was no doubt that the kidnapper fled the scene wounded. He never appeared on the grid again. SHEILD suspicion was minimized until Percy Jackson blew up a school gym. This time, his accomplice was a large, possibly autistic boy with legal records that label him 'homeless'. SHEILD suspected a falsified past and took in further research on the adolescent, where they turned out to be wrong. This 'Tyson' had grown up homeless, and only recently acquainted Jackson. _

_The two vanished from the grid somewhere around Manhattan—that is when SHEILD sent in their first operatives to confront the matter. They reported in, notifying SHIELD that what they saw was no more than a mere strawberry farm run by a man restrained in a wheelchair. They chose not to bother the peaceful soul. _

_Over the next few years, sightings of Percy Jackson had seemed possible—credible. Up until the boy blew up a mountain at fourteen. SHEILD's monodrones sighted Percy Jackson hurtling through the sky from the eruption, charred clothing and whatnot. SHIELD suspected him dead after he crashed into the ocean. But when operatives scanned the sea for the boy, he was nowhere to be seen. Again, he vanished from the grid. SHIELD hesitantly labeled him deceased. They were wrong._

_All this time SHIELD had observers monitor and bug Percy Jackson's house, a small apartment in Manhattan. His mother, Sally Jackson, seemed to have no knowledge of her son's actions, and she went about an ordinary life._

_Just as SHIELD was about to take Sally Jackson in, all of her operatives within the City and Long Island zone fell asleep. All of SHEILD was completely venerable. There are many theories on what happened, invisible and odorless gas, but the sensors would have detected that. It was the perfect tourist attack, and nearly all of New York City was demolished upon awakening. Yet not one citizen was found dead._

Steve Rogers blinked before rubbing his temples. "You want me to find him."

SHIELD Director Nickolas J. Fury was seated behind the desk of his office, dark eyes gazing out the glass wall. The pentagon could be seen from the top floor, ion which they occupied.

"I have my best operatives prepped for the assignment." Nick Fury said before he spun in his swivel chair to face the captain. "All of my operatives except you."

Steve glanced back down at the file in is hands. He turned to page and examined Percy Jackson's bio. "What are you playing at, Fury?" He murmured. "He's vanished off the globe."

"'Vanish' does not change the fact that he is out there. And we have ensured his current location." Nick Fury tilted his head up slightly and raised his voice. "Computer, show me Observer C."

The wall behind Steve Rogers seemed to flash to life as the clear monitor shown a live image of a busy dirt road. Steve turned to face the monitor, watching the people in ragged clothing call out prices from stands in various languages. A kid on a bike drove by the camera, making it shake slightly before it focused on a man across the road.

Percy Jackson was dressed in a grey tank top and some khaki shorts. His hair was windblown and wild, his stubble indicating that he had not shaved in a few days. He seemed to be talking with a scrawny little Indian boy, who was lugging a cart full of dirty water.

"This is a live feed of Boa India, a crowded corner of the world near the coast." Nick Fury explained.

Steve Rogers watched as Percy Jackson handed the boy a wad of European currency, only to be turned down.

"He runs the length of the beach every morning from 6-7 o' clock, then tries bargaining for water." Nick Fury eased back down in his chair. "He owns a jeep he barely uses, his house is nothing more than a wooden shack. He has a journal but it's written in some ancient form of Greek, and our translator scans keep crashing whenever we make them run. That man is keeping secrets. Secrets I want to know."

Steve Rogers was silent. Percy Jackson had taken off his watch and handed it out to the little boy. The Indian lad took it and held out a jug of water for Jackson to take, who accepted gratefully.

"And what makes you think I want to be a part of this operation?" Steve Rogers turned to face Nick Fury. "Jackson is living a humble enough life now."

"Never trust a criminal." Nick Fury regarded the captain. "And why do I think you'll join us? I know you will join us because we suspect he is another volunteer for the 'super soldier' program."

Steve Rogers hesitated.

"He runs every morning, nonstop, at a full sprint for a complete hour without breaking a sweat. That is impossible by human standards." Nick Fury stood again and rounded his desk. "He recovers from his long runs remarkably. Last week he was swimming in a community pool. He went under…" The director came to a stop before Steve. "… didn't come back up for 50 minutes and when he did, Jackson was completely dry.

"Believe it or not, Rogers, but this man is impossible. And I don't like it."

Steve Rogers blinked before glancing back up at the monitor. Jackson was chugging down the water remarkably fast. "If I take him in… we question him my way. No torture, no dark rooms."

Captain kept his gaze on the young man. Something that edged just out of reach from the back of his mind…_ there_. The nervous tick, a periodic glance over his shoulder. The drumming of his fingers. Steve Rogers did not see a criminal.

He saw a soldier.

…

**Please tell me what you think :) unfortunately, I have writers block on my other projects Dx if any of you have any good ideas on how to continue 'She's Out of your League' I'm more then willing to hear it! :D**


	2. Chapter One-A Tantrum

**Thanks to all for all the positive replies :D seriously, I was giggling like deranged maniac when I read the responses to my prologue. I'd like to say something in which I forgot to state last chapter: Avenges is not mine, and neither is Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Obviously.**

**I'd like to thank Lastsolace for pointing out my geographical mistake. The coasting population Percy's taking refuge in is indeed Goa, not Boa. My bad xD. **

…

Percy knew that the guy in the expensive-looking floral shirt was watching him. The guy had neat shades, khaki shorts, and sharply trimmed facial hairs. One thing Percy could tell just by looking at this guy: he was an idiot. If you wanted to spy on someone, you gotta look like everybody else. The dude was probably pretending to be a tourist. His next mistake, who in Hera's name would want to tour this crowded pocket of the world?

Percy turned his back on the man before the observer could tell he had spotted him, and engaged himself with a conversation with an Indian woman who was selling some small, useful utensils. Toothpicks, a few toothbrushes, a pair of swimming goggles, well in-tact. Jackson whistled his approval.

"You sure did find a good deal someplace."

Accessories such as the ones listed were of high value in Goa. It wasn't like the Indian occupants were stuck in the middle ages or anything of that sort. But still, sunglasses that are not cracked, some shirts that are devoid of any rips. A few stains, granted, but no tears in the fabric. This was some high quality material by Goa's standards.

Percy picked a toothbrush from its open container. It was a cheap toothbrush, clear-ish grey. Thankfully, it didn't look like it had been used. The woman leaned against the wooden table which held the utensils. She was middle-aged, some grey strands in her black braids and mild wrinkles claiming her features. She smiled wide, revealing exactly five teeth. Five yellow teeth. Nasty.

"You like?"

Percy nodded. "I like."

"What happened with other brush?"

The young man looked up sharply, recognizing her for the first time. She was the same woman of whom he had bought his last toothbrush.

"Uh…" She had the right to ask. This was his second toothbrush to be bought in the same week. But Percy doubted she would believe him if he were to tell her that his previous toothbrush was previously sticking out of the eye of a particularly nasty hellhound. A hellhound of which was probably whimpering in some dark corner. Serves that beast right for trying to bite off his head and smashing half of his shack into shambles.

"Lost it," Percy chuckled sheepishly.

"Yes? Well make sure you lose this one too so more money for Tia!" The woman, Tia, laughed obnoxiously.

Percy chortled hesitantly along with her laughter. He had no money besides the four crumpled European bills in his pocket. And these people didn't accept foreign currency. Percy felt his pockets, feeling for something of value. He had already given up his gods-given watch for a jug of water. He downed that dirty liquid in six gulps.

Percy took his time, fully aware that he was under the expectant stare of Tia. Also under the burrowing glare of his stalker, who was now pretending to pick his teeth while gazing in a mirror of an open shop, but really was using said mirror to check up on Percy. The moron. Who hired this guy?

The young man fished out a golden pen from his pocket. He froze. _By the gods..._

Percy dropped the pen and took a step back. _What are you doing here?_ Impossible. This pen... it was ripped from his. The connection was severed! He crouched own, staring. _Why come to me now?_

"What is wrong?" Tia took drew in a look of impatience.

The prince of the sea glanced up as if from a daze, blinking from his reverie. "Huh?"

"You going to pay with pen? Good pen, must cost fortune."

_More than a fortune, mortal. _

Percy scooped up the pen. His heart was a thundering drum in his ears as he grasped the weapon in his fist. _It has been a long time, old friend._ Too long of a time.

"Are you going to pay?" Tia made her words more pronounced. Her tone indicated that he was trying her patience.

Percy stood, his eyes still on the golden pen. "I… uh… I gotta go."

The Exiled Prince took a few steps back, eyes still on the pen. And then he ran, ran as fast as his immortal legs would take him. Percy ripped through the crowd, annoyed shouts in various Asian languages. He noticed that his stalker had broken into a sort-of discreet pursuit after him. Percy didn't care. He did not care.

He cleared the market place at a full sprint and wound down a path that lead to the beach. Tears were etched at the corners of his eyes and they were lost in the wind as he came to a stop just beyond the water. The sea. His domain. Or once was. Chest heaving, Percy lifted his head and shouted, his voice thundering over sea like a crashing tidal.

"_WHY NOW?!"_

The sea churned and writhed, the blue-grey depths responding in their own secret way. Secrets Percy knew.

"You _banished _me!" Percy screamed. "You threw into an oblivion like tossing aside a used RAG! And after I climbed out, suffering the torments of Tartarus,_ after all that you have done to me!_" The prince took in a ragged breath. "_AND YOU STILL EXPECT ME TO HELP YOU?! To save your petty lives time and time again while you cower on your thrones?!" _

Percy gripped Aklusmos tighter in his fist before he hurled her out and over the sea. _"I am no longer your puppet! AND I HAVE THE SCARS TOO PROVE IT!"_

Perseus Jackson stood there on the beach, just out of reach of the tide. His chest heaved as it dealt with the aftermath of his tantrum. His blood churned with anger in his veins.

"You cast me out." He growled, teeth clenched. "And out I will stay. Fight your war. I will have no part in it."

That evening Aklusmos still had not returned.

…

**That's it, for now :) again, I am shocked with how much love this installment in Fanfiction is getting. Keep it up!**


	3. Chapter Two-From Another Life

**Again, I am shocked by the waves of encouragement that slammed into me. They make me more than happy. It's more like an emotion that I will forever fail to explain….**

**Marimart, I apologize for not being clear enough on the description of Percy's stalker. I'm afraid that he was not Steve Rogers xD but the said Observer C.**

**I don't own Percy Jackson, if I did, I'd have him warm my bath water or something.**

**Same thing stands for the Avengers.**

…

The rumbling hum of the hover jets was a nice upgrade from the World War II War Birds, Steve Rogers noted. He was sure that Stark had a hand in the creation of this air craft, somewhere down the line.

The captain sat strapped down to one of the many seats within the belly of the beast. The hover jet was on some sort of stealth setting. When one of his fellow operatives tried explaining the process of 'stealth mode' to the captain, but he lost Steve when 'Perematic Mirrorized Platiles' entered the massive equation.

Across from Steve sat Natasha Romanoff, a red-haired top-ranking op, as most would put it. Rogers could just settle with 'Dishonest Spy'. That was a much simpler term for the young woman. Next to Steve sat Clint. He didn't know the master archer's last name, despite saving the world by the agent's side. Clint Barton, codename Hawk Eye, was spinning an explosive arrow between his fingers carelessly. The man looked bored. An shocking difference from the intense focus he wore when confronting the Chitauri.

Agent Maria Hill was piloting the aircraft, and from what Steve could tell from her bios, she was closest to Nickolas J. Fury. She seems to show more compassion than most SHIELD agents, she smiled more than Natasha smirked, and talked more than Clint scowled. So Hill was the safest bet for a date, if Rogers was interested.

The rest of the agents were men and women Steve did not know, and did not want to know. A few chatted quietly, while others examining the targets bio with glass tablets.

"You nervous, big boy?" Natasha spoke for the first time since the aircraft took off. Her smirk seemed teasing, for some reason. "Remember, if things get too hot, just hit him over the head with your Frisbee."

"I'll take a note." Steve replied evenly. He still couldn't believe that he was doing this. This... the whole operation... It felt… _wrong. _

"Just don't give the kid a concussion." Clint murmured absentmindedly. "Makes things antsy for an interrogation."

"I'll try to restrain myself." Muttered Steve.

Rob Herling, codename Anaconda, stood from his seat. He was an imposing African American agent, as tall as Steve himself. Anaconda was bald and a scar split through his pronounced cheekbones. He was dressed in military camo pants, with trek boots and a bullet vest. A high frequency commlink sat in his vest pocket with a wire spiraling up to his ear. Normally, SHIELD avoided wires.

"Evening ladies and gentlemen." His voice was deep as he addressed the operatives.

A large glass panel slid smoothly from the floor with a soft hiss and images were immediately displayed. Top right corner shown a mug shot of Percy Jackson in his late teens. Probably taken for his driver's license. In the middle of the clear monitor displayed a highly detailed map of Goa India. Letters popped to life, A, B, C, and D. The Observers.

"As you all know, Jackson has taken residence near the coast. A nice little shack away far enough so not to draw attention." Oh, so this was a briefing. "Though as of now," Anaconda continued, "we have no records of Jackson wielding any sort of weapon. In the past he may have swung a bat around, and a gun, but no specific weapon of choice."

Steve took a mental note of this. Should make things easier.

"However," Anaconda continued, "observers _have _reported that he had trained with a Brazilian martial artist for a couple years. Jackson bested his mentor on the third year of his training."

"Nothing a notreeno dart won't fix." Called an agent. He was cleaning the barrel of a silver blow gun.

Anaconda nodded toward Steve Rogers, giving him the spotlight. He _was _the captain, after all. Steve unbuckled himself from his harness and set his shield on his back. Squaring his shoulders, the walking fossil stepped up to the briefing board and gave Anaconda a nod, who stepped aside. Ops began to stand as Hill called through the intercom.

"We're over Goa now, shifting to Drift Approach."

The thrusters of the jet died away but the shielded propellers on each wing lifted the jet higher. The hum of the engines became a faint hiss. All eyes were on the captain. Steve examined the detailed map on the briefing board for a fleeting moment before he turned to face the operatives.

"We fan out. I'll take a few of you through the city. Herling and Romanoff, take the coast. Barton, you take two choice operatives and secure the shack."

"I prefer to work alone," Clint muttered, "these buffoons will just get in my way."

That comment drew glares, and incited an amused smirk from Natasha.

"Fine," Captain America pulled fitted on his helmet and buckled the strap under his chin. "If any of you encounter Jackson, subdue him."

"What about me?" Maria Hill stepped out from the cockpit.

"Aren't you suppose-wait-who's driving?!" Steve nearly jumped out of his boots.

"Autopilot."

"What... You know? Forget it." The captain shook his head, his cheeks reddening slightly through the embarrassment. "You can-… uh… make sure autopilot doesn't malfunction?"

"Impossible."

"You never know with machines."

"Impossible, Stark designed it."

Steve chuckled. "Right, you're staying."

"What if Jackson breaks the perimeter?"

"He won't."

…

Percy was trying to get drunk. The bottle of cold beer in his hand fizzed slightly as he uncorked to head. This was his fourth bottle. He still wasn't drunk. Maybe only spawns of Dionysus could get drunk? Percy's immune system was too strong, it slaughtered the effects of the beer. Jackson could not get drunk.

He just wanted one night of happy delusion to dissuade his grief. Grief that gnawed ruthlessly at his gut, his heart. His soul. Regret, grief, guilt, agony, hate, betrayal. He wanted to numb it all, to make the tempest of bitter emotion a little spec at the back of his mind. Percy's spirit would not allow it.

The Exiled Prince gazed over the sea from the window of his shack. He was seated, slumped, in kneaded rocking chair. He hated the sea. For it belonged to the deity he had once called father. Now, beyond the wondrous reach of the sea, the song of the tide tormented him. Like the voice of the sirens when he saved Annab-

_No. Don't you dare think about her. _

Percy stood and hurled his beer over the beach. It landed in the sand a few paces from the tide. Before, he wouldn't dare litter in his father's domain. He wouldn't dare harm the creatures that had once called him lord. Now they called him traitor. Now, Percy didn't give a schist.

He stepped away from the window. Percy had to leave. He was too close to the shore. He had hoped the swishing of the tide would calm him, like it used to, but now it just leered. But first, he had to do something.

Percy grabbed his journal and began tearing through the pages. He stopped at one page. A picture was taped there. He stared at that picture, his eyes burning with brimming tears.

_I have been living the past. _

Percy tore out the whole page, photo and all, from his journal and began fumbling through a drawer. He found a small leather satchel, the size of a coin back, and emptied its single occupier. He stared at the small, beautiful trinket in his palm before he closed his fingers around it, squeezing it in his fist.

_No longer. _

Percy stepped out around his small house and fished around in the back of his jeep until he found a canteen of gasoline. He began trickling it about his home, the wood of the walls would help the fire spread. Tossing aside his clothes, Percy fitted on his night-blue hoodie and dark jeans. The young man took from his hoodie pocket a lighter. He flicked the tool to life and tossed it through the window.

_My past is now ashes._

He glared at his handiwork, the fire creeping up the walls and enveloping the roof. The rocking chair was already charred. Percy knew he should run, but something held him back. Something made him linger for one last moment.

"You're making a mistake." The owner of the voice stepped up beside the Exiled Prince.

Percy hunched his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" His tone was devoid of emotion.

"Does it not seem obvious?"

Percy turned to face the goddess. "I'm no longer a hero, Athena." He whispered. "That was a different person. Now, that person is dead. In his place a stranger."

Athena did not confront Percy with her usual cold demeanor in which she had always used in the past. Her grey eyes were soft, sad. Percy turned his gaze back to the fire.

"I don't believe that." Athena whispered. "Do you know why?"

The Exiled Prince did not answer.

"Because I know your fatal flaw." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "The gods were wrong to exile you, Perseus."

Percy hunched his shoulders further still, his eyes dancing with the fire. The Olympians had voted for his exile. Artemis, Apollo, Hestia and Athena had elected against his banishment. The rest nominated in favor. He hated them, hated them all. The irony, really. The goddess who hated his guts since the beginning decides to like him now, out of all times.

Athena took his hand. Percy turned to face her as she pressed a golden pen into his palm. The coolness of the metal seemed to sooth him. The Exiled Prince stared down at the weapon as Athena closed his fingers around it. A tear trickled down one cheek and wetted the sand.

"They will cast me down to Tartarus again." Percy whispered. "No matter what I do, I'm not welcome any more."

"Do you need to be?" Athena rested her hands on his broad shoulders. She was taller than him, a head taller. "Don't be loyal to the gods, that path has forsaken you. Be loyal to yourself. Trust who you are, Perseus."

A pair of rosy lips pressed against his forehead.

"But who-…" Percy looked back up. Athena was gone. He stood there for a moment, trapped inside himself. A battle within. Only the roof collapsing caught his attention. The Exiled Prince faced the fire the raging fire again and took a step back. He stared down at Aklusmos. The light of the fire made the pen look like it was glowing.

Percy thumbed the cap. One click, that's all it would take. Just one click and it would all begin again. All who he ever was, all that he once was stored in the spirit of a magical sword.

Not so cliché as one might think.

_No. Not yet. _

He will think about it. And this time he will give himself a chance.

As Percy Jackson turned his back to the burning shack, the last think to catch aflame was a small photo. The photo was of a handsome young man with eyes as green as the sea, nearly unrecognizable in his black suit, gazing into the storm-grey eyes of a blonde young woman.

A young woman in a Greek-style wedding dress. The flames consumed the photo. All that was left was a red-hot trinket.

A wedding ring.

From another life.

…

**Dun dun duuuununnnnn…. I wedding ring?! Had Percy once been married? What had happened for him to think of himself this way? I myself don't even know yet xD I hope you enjoyed!**


	4. Chapter Four-A Fight

**SDJKasfhasbfsjbfhbfebfsjbfsdjbfasfbdfbsdnmfsdnfsdttrrhrtawehhjbgdhjbgdhv**

**That was my brain once started reading all the wonderful reviews. Honestly, 57 reviews?! And there were only 3 chapters then! *melts***

**Kljdlkjzsblnf fb asfl asfnasbflasbfslfjsbkvjks**

**Look at you all, already pairing characters up and whatnot :D I'm not sure about PercyxLoki 'cause I might already *cough cough* have an idea of Percy's romantic life… possibly. **

**Also, I apologize for any typos I might have stumbled through in the past and near future. I'm a busy man, and I don't have Beta Reader xD **

**Also, an apology about the last chapter for all the grammar issues. **

**A DISCLAIMER FOR YOU ALL. I don't own one single thing I am writing at this moment. **

**Oh**

**And one more thing…**

…

Jackson was smarter then Clint Barton could have guessed. But one with a criminal track record like Jackson's, it shouldn't be a surprise.

Clint was not surprised.

He was angry.

The SHIELD agent kicked aside a mass of burnt, smoking wood. It was nearly daybreak, and all what he had left to see was a shack burned to the ground. Clint was, indeed, working alone. He liked it that way. No other footsteps, no other breathing. Just him, his bow, and his prey. It was a hunt, and he was the hunter.

His prey, however, was no gazelle. Jackson could cover his tracks. Clint probably won't be able to pick up the tr-

Footprints.

In the sand.

The SHIELD agent lifted his finger to the commlink in his ear. "Jackson burned down his shack, but I found footprints heading east, up shore."

The high frequency radio waves traveled through the air in a split second as they reached every field agent involved in the operation. Steve Rogers was the first to answer.

"Take pursuit but do not engage unless completely necessary. We're shifting the perimeter."

Clint's flashlight lit the way down the way Jackson's footprints led. "Who put you in charge anyway?"

Silence on the other end. He guessed a few agents were snickering.

"Just shut up and do what you're told." Came Steve's muttered reply.

Geez. The captain sure was in a cranky mood tonight.

As Clint Barton followed the trail of footprints, he mulled over how he had over-estimated the target. Jackson really was an idiot. Then again, these footprints could be a hoax. A decoy. Hawk Eye noted how quiet it was. The swishing of the tide was growing distant. Not one nocturnal animal made the slightest sound. These were now hunting grounds, and the animals knew better then to interfere.

…

Percy had kicked in the door to a church. Strange, not many churches were locked around here. Something about trusting your neighbor. Evidently, that didn't seem to pay off so much. Though Percy _did _feel a bit guilty. Kicking in the doors of a place of worship wouldn't look so good on his resume.

The church was dark, nobody occupied the building at this time of night. Not even a night guard. But this wasn't any official church. It was community-built. Percy slumped into a booth at the back of the rows. What would it be like? To believe in only one God? What if this one God was the only true God in existence? And the Olympians are just some prank…

That would be a nice life. Being a Christian, it looked so simple. And peaceful.

Percy stood from where he sat and ambled up the aisle. He ran his hand along the wood of the booths he passed. Memories bathed his mind and weighted his heart.

_A veil, behind it a beautiful face. A beautiful smile, and beautiful eyes. A ring fitting perfectly on his finger. A ring sliding up the finger of his betrothed. The ring fits snuggly, and it looks so perfect. So perfect._

_A kiss, a true, passionate kiss in which he loses himself in._

_And… and._

And it was no longer his.

Percy Jackson let out an enraged roar punched through a mosaic of Jesus in the manger. The glass shattered outward and down, some shards bouncing off his shoulders. He planted his hands against the wall and hung his head, chest heaving. He needed to see a physiatrist. The spurts of uncontrollable rage was getting worse. It would be a lie if he were to say that he was 'okay'.

Percy Jackson was angry. Not just at the gods or the fates. Not just God, or the mosaic he just punched through.

The Exiled Prince was angry at the universe.

He had to get out of here before he kicked down the wall.

Percy turned to face the door, only to freeze. A man was stepping through the threshold. He was medium in height, with short dark hair, blue eyes, and a solid build. He wore a black, sleeveless shirt, clasped in his hand was a modern bow. Arrows filled the quiver strapped to his back.

The man stopped once reaching mi-length of the aisle. He squared his feet before crossing his arms.

"You're a hard man to find, Jackson."

Percy shot up both eyebrows. "Uh… excuse me?" How did this man know his last name? And why had he been trying to find him?

_His stalker. _Hades, how had he forgotten? Surely the stalker from yesterday couldn't have been working alone. This was probably his contact.

_Schist. _

The Exiled Prince immediately felt danger. He hadn't felt like this since war. The raw, overpowering sense of a cornered animal. Percy took a step back before his hand instinctively drifted for the pocket bearing Anaklusmos.

"Who the hades are you?" The young man narrowed his eyes.

The stranger rolled his shoulders before sliding his bow into its holster across his back.

"Doesn't matter who I am. What matters is who you are." He smirked. "My first real fight in ages."

Percy spared a glance toward the window. He could make a run for it, but turning his back on this stranger would be bad. Bad.

"Don't think of running Jackson, we have the perimeter secure." The stranger said. "Packed tight with agents. The thing is that they don't know I've found you yet."

Percy let his hand drop from his pocket. Wouldn't work much anyway, this guy was a mortal.

"Why not call your buddies?"

"Because _this_," Clint smirked, "this will be interesting."

And with that, Hawk Eye charged, sprung, braced his booted foot against a booth, and pushed off, momentarily airborne. Percy's senses screamed. It has been so long. _So long. _All in an instant his instincts pulled the strings. He didn't even think. Not one thought. Just him, this man, and the raw fight.

Percy Jackson palmed Clint's fist with one hand and grabbed the agent's wrist with the other, twisting and slamming him into the ground. Clint grunted and locked his arms around Percy's leg, lifted him up and brought him down hard onto an offerings table, which splinter under Jackson's weight. Clint snatched up a metal candle stand and brought the makeshift cudgel down hard. Percy flipped up a Bible and blocked the blow before kicking his aggressor back.

He rolled to his feet and drove the Bible into Clint's toes, inciting a crow of agony from the man. Percy drove the Bible into the throat of the agent and pushed him back violently against an encased, the glass that protected its relics shattering. He smashed Clint across the face with the thick Book, then gave the agent a good solid punch in the jaw.

Clint grunted and connected his fist with Percy's stomach, followed by knee. The Exiled Prince heaved and stumbled back and away from the agent. Clint strung his bow, he himself panting.

'"It's been a pleasure."

Clint had drawn a tranquil arrow, the tip was so thin that it was a needle. A projectile meant for injection. The agent let the arrow fly.

Two heartbeats. One blink.

A blink of shock.

Clint's blink.

Percy had caught the arrow. Within the split second it took for the projectile to reach the exiled Prince, he had tossed aside the Bible. And _caught _the arrow.

Perseus Jackson scowled as he snapped the arrow and dropped each half to the floor.

Percy flexed his fingers, it felt _so good _to feel this way again. The thrill of a battle. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, drums beat in his ears, his soul screamed.

And a star spangled shield slammed into his back.

The Exiled Prince grunted, sprawling flat out on the floor. Pain flared up his spine.

_A trick._

Percy was back on his feet in an instant and he pivoted aside just in time to avoid a kick from a red-haired woman. He leaped to dodge a whip sparkling with electricity which cracked at his legs, wielded by a tall African American. More agents were spilling into the church, but these kept their distance, weapons loaded.

"Stand down, Jackson." The speaker was a tall, muscular blond man in some sort of dark, battle suit. On his arm, the round, red white and blue shield. "We don't want any trouble."

The red-head rolled her eyes.

"Yeah?" Percy wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. "You should've thought of that before you threw your Frisbee in my back."

"We just want to take you in."

"Adoption?"

"Interrogation."

"Ever heard of knocking?" Percy smirked. "I hear it's common these days."

Captain America didn't have a chance to answer.

Two shots. Ripping through flesh. Tearing through the body with merciless ruthlessness.

Percy Jackson gasped and stumbled forth. Steve caught him by the shoulders. Agents began shouting with confusion. Clint drew his bow. All of it didn't matter. All of it was a distant haze. A blur, an echo.

What mattered were the two bullet holes in his back, given to him by two soviet slugs.

Then all Percy knew was white.

…

**Ooooooooooh, if any of you have seen 'The Winter Soldier" I bet you could guess who fired those slugs. **

**I just love leaving you people dangling over the edge of cliffhangers. Makes me grin evilly.**

**HAVE A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS! :D**

Charles


	5. Author's Note

**Hello everybody! Apologize if you expected this to be another chapter… the thing is with my absence is that life suddenly pounced and dragged me from my computer. I hope you can forgive me.**

**Anyway, the next chapter is coming… slowly. The twist at the end of last chapter left me at a dead end of sorts, and no direction seemed right to me. Thankfully, I've pushed through that blockade and I am now writing as fast as I can. **

**All I can do now is ask you all to be patient :) I love you, all of you. :D**

**-Charles **


	6. Chapter Five-Who Is This?

**I apologize profusely for the many weeks it took me to write this particular chapter D: But, fortunately, I might be able to get back in the groove if I can win wrestling with work and school.**

**I believe I have already stated this but it wouldn't hurt to say it once again.**

**Hey, punks. **

**I don't own the pennies in my pocket, much less what I'm writing.**

…

**Okay, maybe I DO own the pennies in my pocket, but certainly not Percy Jackson or the Avengers.**

Typically, Percy was dreaming.

This the Exiled Prince found strange, for he never had a dream such as this since this, well, exile. Even after the defeat of the Earth Mother Percy was still given dreams of battles to come, of prophesies unspoken. One of which had broken him.

Percy Jackson lay in a meadow. The meadow was peaceful. Butterflies flitted about, a rabbit chewed on the roots of some sweet plant. This was a familiar setting, like the painful innocence before a stealthy storm. And so Percy braced himself.

Lightning struck him with all of Zeus' fury.

A bolt so bright, so brilliant, and so _terrible _slammed into his chest and as the lightning met body, blue turned to red. And sky became blood. And the sky became the sea. And Percy was drowning. Gasping and writhing, Percy flailed in the endless see of spilled blood, his lungs screaming and begging for air. Above all else, above the crashing of bloody waves and roaring of the winds came a thundering voice.

"_You dare return after what you have done?!" _

Something wrapped about his legs and forced him under the surface of the blood-sea.

"_I will see you suffer, Perseus Jackson."_

The coils of shadows that bound Percy's legs grew searing hot, and he screamed. Blood gushed into the young man's lungs as a voice rumbled and shook the world.

"Ah, the child banished from death," the voice rumbled, beyond the deepest baritone.

Down and down Percy was hauled, further down into the dark, bloody abyss. And as the Exiled Prince was being swallowed by the earth at the bottom of the sea, and mighty churning force of darkness formed above him.

Tartarus in all his dreadful glory, the primordial god of torture, misery, and suffering.

"_Welcome home."_

Percy's sea-green eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, gasping for air. Well, he _tried_ to sit up. The leather restraints kind of held him back from that. Still gulping desperately for air, Percy tugged violently against the restraints all the while a panicked dread rose up in his chest.

"No," the Exiled Prince muttered. The humming of the engines, the slight pitching of the room. He knew where he was.

"No…. no no no no _no!" _ Percy's chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart beat rising to alarming speeds.

An aircraft. He was in an aircraft.

Percy realized he was shirtless. Bandages were placed over a wound in his chest and abdomen, he could feel more bandages on his back. His belongings sat on a desk across the prison-medic room. Aklusmos, his shark-tooth necklace (which replaced his beaded necklace from Camp half-blood), and a toothbrush.

Oh. And his shirt.

Percy decided to quit struggling, though that didn't help his nerves much. He was in a bed pulled horizontally to the wall so he could survey the room around him, which was quite plain save the compluter monitoring his nervous system. The door across from him opened with a click and a young woman strolled in, her high heels clicking against the steel floor. For a moment, Percy nearly forgot about his nerves. She. Was. _Gorgeous. _

Black hair pulled back to reveal a flawless, beautiful face. Lush red lips, and those curves…

Percy blinked before scowling and forced his gaze to the floor. _Idiot, _he mentally scolded himself, _she's on their side._

The woman cleared her throat as she strode to a steel table, which bore various devices. None of which, thankfully, looked like tools of torture.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson." The young woman said. She snapped on a pair of elastic gloves. "My name is Agent Maria Hill."

Percy blinked. "Your first name is Agent?"

Agent Maria Hill ignored Percy's question and strode right over to the imprisoned young man. She began, with skilled delicacy, to peel away the bandages. Percy held his breath to keep himself from breathing in her rosy scent.

"I'll have you know that it was not by our marksmen you were shot," Maria Hill quickly replaced the old bandage with a fresh one. "Do you have any unknown enemies, Mr. Jackson?"

"Besides you?" Percy found himself blurting.

Maria wasn't fazed by the accusation, but he did notice that her gentleness with re-bandaging evaporated. She tore the bandage on his abdomen, making Percy cringe. He tried not to notice the young woman's fingers brushing against his abs as she replaced the bandage.

The aircraft lurched slightly, jumping Percy back to awareness. Maria murmured a soft curse and she stepped back, raising her finger to the earpiece in her, eh, ear.

"Steersman, status?"

Percy couldn't hear the reply, but judging from Maria's reaction, it was not pleasant news.

"This air-bucket was modified to _overrun _turbulence." She paused as more speaking came from the receiver.

_So I was right, I am in the sky. And my greatest enemy owns the sky._

Percy found himself chuckling. It was not an amused chuckle, but a choked out snicker, brinking at the edge of hatred. Not for the Agent, but for the god that's about to knock this 'airbucket' to next week.

"Don't you see?" The Exiled Prince's eyes flashed with mad amusement. "We're dead. Taking me to the sky was the _worst _thing that you could have possibly accomplished."

Agent Maria Hill paused, her sapphire-blue eyes scanning Percy. "Was that a threat?" Her voice now had a dangerous edge to it.

Percy laughed. This wasn't him. Why was he laughing, _why was he laughing?_

"Your blindness is pathetic!" Percy spat, "We, every last one of us, _are going to die!" _

A mighty bolt of lightning then struck the Helicarrier.

Alarms blared and shouting began echoing through the halls outside the room. Panicked seized Percy again. Oh gods, all these people are going to die. _Because of him._

Another bolt of lightning made the Helicarrier lurch, throwing Maria Hill of her feet. She slammed into the wall at Percy's right with a grunt. And Percy… Percy was staring at nothing. Who_ was _that? The madman within him, cackling and sobbing at once. Who was this monster?

_Who was this monster?!_

**...**

**I wanted this to be much, MUCH, longer. But, alas, I felt as if you needed to be fed xD Steve's point of view will be seen next chapter, along with Maria's. If you're exited for some MariaxPercy, you'll hafta wait! Romance will come, but not so quickly. These things take time, my lovelies.**

**Anyhow, until next chapter!**


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